Reach for Me
by skye3
Summary: And then when they’d make their way beck to the car, she would always run her fingers through his hair in an attempt to fix it because it would always be “wonderfully disheveled,” as he’d like to call it, by the wind. Post 4.11. MerDer


**Disclaimer: Just borrowing…**

"Nicely done Shep," the chief said as they washed their hands.

"Hmm.." he nodded, watching the nurses wheel their patient out to the recovery room. It had been a long and complicated procedure. The patient nearly died twice.

"Now I want you to go home," the chief ordered, looking at him with concern evident in his features. "Get some rest. I don't want to see you in the hospital till tomorrow afternoon."

"Yeah." He mumbled in response. Richard gave him a fatherly pat on the shoulder and left the scrub room.

He's been so tired lately. And it only got worse everyday. And today, today he felt like he was about to pass out. He was a doctor, one of the top neurosurgeons in the country, in fact. He knew why he was feeling shitty by the day. He hand't been sleeping very well. And everytime he had time to rest, he'd just lie in bed with his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. And he also haven't been eating much. He was very tired but he can't sleep. His stomach was growling haft the time but he doesn't have the apetite to eat. He defintily knows the reasons for why he's unwell, he knows what he should do to help himself. He just didn't have the drive to do it.

He lingered around the hospital because the surgeries was supposed to make him feel better. But they didn't, they made him feel worse. His feet felt like lead. He was hurting all over. He really should be going home. But he doesn't want to. Because then he'd feel them in full force. The hurt, the lonliness and the regret. And to be all alone in the trailer in the middle of nowhere with those feelings is not very inticing. However passing out in the hospital in fron t of everyone would be worse, so home it is.

He used to love elevators. Elevators used to be fun and exciting. They represented fond and life changing memories. But now, as he stood there, waiting for the elevator doors to open, he felt nothing but the painful sinking of his heart. Gone were the days of flirting, of kissing her sensless or even just the simple gesture of holding her hand while the rode the elevator. As the steel doors open, he can't help the glimmer of hope that fluttured in his heart. His eyes scanned through the people as the flowed out. He let out a defeated sigh. She wasn't there. He almost wanted to laugh as he rode the elevator all by himself. He forgot that she was really good at the avoiding thing. It amazed him sometimes how she was able to do it so well. It's definitley one of her many weird and incredibly amusing talents.

The drive home was dreadful. It wouldn't be so silent if his usual "The Best of The Clash" cd were playing. But he knew better than turning it on. Because then he'd be reminded of how she'd purposefully annoy him with complaining about his bad taste in music. She complained non-stop but she'd always have this smirk that is uniquely hers and there's always that giggle in her voice.

They used to cuddle as they stood behind the railings of the ferry watching the city lights become smaller and smaller. And cuddling almost always lead to kissing. And he loved kissing her. He'd give anything right now just to have the chance to kiss her again. And then when they'd make their way beck to the car, she would always run her fingers through his hair in an attempt to fix it because it would always be "wonderfully disheveled," as he'd like to call it, by the wind. But now he didn't bother getting out of the car.

The crunching of the gravel beneath the tires gave him little comfort as he parked his car. He turned the key, but didn't pull it out. Now that the engine has stopped, silence annoyingly rang in his ear. Taunting him, telling him over and over again that he is alone. Closing his eyes, he sat there. Lingering. Preparing himself for the long grueling task of getting through another night of trying to sleep, trying not to think of her and trying to find the strength to go on for another day.

He knew that he had a hand in digging this hole that he's in. Many sleepless nights allowed for a lot of thinking. And after days of trying to put the blame on her and hate her, one night, to his misery, he finally realized and admitted to himself that he too made a lot of mistakes.

For the third time in his life, he was drowning. But this time, nobody was there to save him. He was barley hanging on, but he didn't want just anybody to save him. Mark had tried but he'd reach out only for her hand. He wanted her. Only her.

'_Cause when you're gone_

_Colors seem to fade_

_- Amos Lee_

**Thanks for reading! Comments are love. **


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